I gave birth to my friend's baby - and it nearly cost me my life

When Sarah Watkins, a 28-year-old mother of two from Leigh, Lancashire, agreed to be a surrogate for a friend, she had no idea how close she would come to tragedy...

Lying on my hospital bed after giving birth, with the doctors and midwives bustling around me, I began to lose consciousness. Sounds and voices were fading into the background. Before I knew what was happening, I was wearing an oxygen mask and waking up to alarm bells as a crash team battled to save my life.

I couldn't see anything and was crying out for my husband Dave. Reaching out, I felt him grab my hand, letting me know he was there. I was more terrified than I'd ever been in my life. This was it: I was going to die.

Greatest gift: But Sarah Watkins, with baby Lewis, took a terrible risk when she helped Anita (right)

Above all else, I thought about my two young sons, Matthew, who was two-and-a-half, and 18-month-old Adam, and wondered if they'd ever forgive me for leaving them.

This was not how I imagined it would be when I agreed to be a surrogate mother for a friend.

I couldn't have been happier in my own pregnancies. My hair shone, my skin glowed and everyone commented on how healthy I looked. I'd loved every minute. When Adam was born in April 2007 after an easy labour, I felt bereft at the thought I might never experience pregnancy again.

Dave and I had agreed we could not afford a bigger family. It was during my second pregnancy that I started reading about surrogacy. We'd done it all so easily, but thousands of couples struggle to have a family, spending tens of thousands of pounds and experiencing years of anguish trying to have a baby.

A friend's sister had real problems conceiving, which made the issue feel personal to me. I mentioned to Dave that surrogacy was something I'd be interested in, but he didn't take much interest, presumably thinking it was a whim I'd soon forget about.

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But after Adam was born I came across the surrogacy charity COTS and read some accounts on its website forums. I sat Dave down and told him I was serious.

The baby wouldn't be ours - we'd just be keeping it warm 'until it was cooked' - but he wasn't convinced. He was worried I wouldn't be able to cope with being pregnant, holding down a job and looking after two young children.

Dave wasn't worried about giving up the baby because it wouldn't be part of our family, but I know he had doubts about how I'd feel after carrying it for nine months. But I was 26 and had lots of energy.

I wanted that amazing feeling of being pregnant while helping another couple. We looked at the website together and, after a week of badgering, Dave came round to the idea. He said he'd support me.

We filled in the application forms, had Criminal Records Bureau checks and then met a support worker for counselling about what potentially could go wrong, from medical complications to separation issues. I wasn't worried. I'd had two perfect pregnancies and was young, so I couldn't see anything but positives.

Dave had more reservations, but wanted to support me because he could see I was so determined. Of course, when you're so focused on something, you ignore all the possible downsides, something I deeply regret.

Complete family: Sarah and David Watkins, with their sons Matthew, four, and Adam, almost three

We were sent profiles of couples who had joined COTS, desperate to find a surrogate. I couldn't believe my eyes when I spotted Anita, a former colleague with whom I'd worked at Warrington hospital a few years ago.

I remembered those long nights when our shifts would overlap and we'd share the tiramisu that her husband Gerardo, a chef, had made her. She had mentioned they were trying for a family, but I had no idea they'd had problems because we'd left our jobs about the same time.

There's a huge element of trust in becoming a surrogate - I'd heard stories about couples getting cold feet or running out of funds, leaving the surrogate literally holding the baby - so it helped that I knew Anita already.

So I contacted COTS, saying I knew Anita and was keen to be her surrogate. An hour later, I got a call from Anita, who was overjoyed to hear from me. There are a total of only 600 surrogates and intending parents in Britain at any one time, so the odds of two friends hooking up like that must be a million to one.

We had a long chat, during which she told me she'd had cervical cancer and had to have a hysterectomy. Luckily, the doctors had harvested her eggs and she had ten frozen embryos, so was at the stage where she needed a surrogate.

She was understandably concerned about the cost, which can be up to £30,000, but I assured her I just wanted to help and would charge for only legitimate expenses, not perks such as long holidays and a new wardrobe that some surrogates claim.

'With your own children, you just get on with it, but as a surrogate mother I felt anxiety and under pressure'

We met at a local restaurant for Sunday lunch. I'd never met her husband Gerardo, and Dave had never met either of them, so it was great to put faces to names.

You're signing up to spending a large chunk of a year - if not the rest of your lives - with these people, so you have to make sure you get on. Dave thought they were fantastic, so I emailed them when I got home to say: 'Let's do it.'

The process of implanting the embryos was simple and painless. In November 2007, I drove to a clinic in Manchester, where doctors fed a straw into my uterus, flushed the embryos through with saline solution and told me to lie down for half an hour.

I had two embryos implanted to increase the chances of conceiving, but that also meant a one in four chance of twins. When I found out a couple of weeks later that it hadn't worked, I felt as if I'd let everyone down and that I'd done something wrong.

Anita was distraught. Despite all the warnings that there is only a one in 25 chance of success, you think you'll be lucky. A couple of months later, we tried again, and this time it worked.

On the day of the official pregnancy test, Anita was hysterical. I was thrilled for her, but for the first time I realised the reality of the situation. This was it - there could be no turning back.

Huge weight to bear: During her pregnancy, Sarah developed a condition where the ligaments in her pelvis became loose

It was such a huge responsibility to have someone else's baby for
them, and while I didn't say it to anyone at the time, that was a huge
weight to bear.

With your own children, you just get on
with it, but as a surrogate mother I felt anxiety and under pressure.
Dave and I had planned a long weekend to Rome later that month, but I
knew Anita was anxious and would be happier if I stayed at home.

We
did go, but I promised I'd phone every day. All this anxiety fed back
into how I felt about the whole thing, making what should have been a
lovely break rather stressful.

The six, nine and 12-week
scans were all fine, so I then told my boss and colleagues at the
antenatal clinic where I worked as a phlebotomist - an assistant who
takes blood samples - that I was pregnant. I had told my parents about
my plan before I contacted COTS, and Mum was not happy.

'Anything could happen, births are never easy,' she said. But, like
Dave, she said she'd support me in whatever I wanted to do.

Anita and I met at all the scans and became really close, but I never shared my increasingly negative feelings because I didn't want to worry her. When I had a 3D scan and found out I was carrying a boy, I gave her all of Adam's newborn baby clothes.

Then one day at work, I felt an intense, dull ache in the back of one calf. The consultant noticed it was noticeably bigger than the other one - often a sign of a dangerous blood clot.

I was given an injection to thin the blood and get rid of any clot, which they assured me couldn't do any harm to me or the baby. I drove home straight away, but on the way I started feeling dizzy and sick.

My skin was incredibly itchy and I had an agonising pain under the right side of my ribs - it felt as if my back was being snapped in two. I somehow managed to get home, but had to crawl through the front door. I told Dave to call an ambulance. The paramedics gave me pain relief and oxygen, and the agony started to subside.

When I got to hospital, I was told I had suffered a severe, but rare, reaction to the blood-thinning drug. A scan showed I didn't have a clot. The baby was fine, but blood samples showed I had a pregnancy-related liver disease that meant I had a significantly higher chance of a stillbirth and haemorrhaging during labour.

There was nothing they could do about it until I gave birth, after which it would clear up naturally. As if that wasn't enough, the doctors said it was unusual to suffer pain with this condition, so I had another scan. They found I had gallstones.

I would rather give birth to quads than have gallstones - whenever I had an attack, it felt as if I was being shot and my back was splitting in two. I was in so much pain I couldn't breathe, with crippling spasms going up and down my spine.

You are normally prescribed morphine to deal with the pain, but because I was pregnant I could take only paracetamol, which was useless. I also developed a condition where the ligaments in the pelvis become loose, so it twists and turns.

'I'm not denying the amazing feeling of giving someone else a baby, but
it's the traumatic side of the experience that will stay with me'

It was so painful that when I'd turn over in bed I could hear my
bones crack. It was week 31 of the pregnancy and every time I ate I was
sick. I was in permanent agony and had the prospect of giving birth to
a dead baby or dying myself in labour.

Dave never said anything,
but I knew he was feeling the same regret I was experiencing. I was so
depressed, thinking: 'What the hell am I doing?' I wasn't looking
forward to the magical moment of giving birth any more; I was just so
frightened and kicking myself for being such a fool.

And what
about my two boys? I had no energy and was a terrible mum. I couldn't
do anything with them because I was feeling so sick. They were being
ignored and had no idea why their mummy was ill.

Because of
the liver condition, I was booked for an induced birth at 38 weeks. I
went in to the hospital at 8am on September 19, 2008, and by the late
afternoon, minor contractions had started. After just a few minutes, I
was told to push. The baby was born almost straight away.

Once they'd checked him, they asked me if I wanted him placed on my chest, but I said: 'No, give him to his mum.'

The fact the child would be a different race to me had never really crossed my mind before or during the pregnancy. But once I'd had him, I think it made it easier to hand him over because he didn't look anything like me. It was a bit of a shock to see a baby that was so obviously not mine come out of me. And then, shortly after the birth, everything went black as I lost consciousness.

Thanks to the medical team, I made a full recovery. After everything I had been through, I felt relief that the ordeal was over. I'd got my life back, I would see my sons again, and the liver disease and all those other complications would start to clear up after all those weeks of agony.

Anita was in tears and said she'd always be in debt to me. I was pleased for her, but I pledged to myself I would never do that to my family again.

Dave was as white as a sheet. I simply hadn't thought about my family enough through the whole process - it had all been about me and what I wanted, not them. I couldn't say sorry enough for what I'd put them through.

I'm not denying the amazing feeling of giving someone else a baby, but it's the traumatic side of the experience that will stay with me.

Over the next couple of weeks, all that had happened really began to hit home. When I thought I'd almost left my boys orphaned and would have missed seeing them go to school and grow up, I was close to tears, thinking about how self-centred I'd been.

Then the doctors gave me some more bad news: there was a high chance I'd end up with the liver condition if I got pregnant again, so it wouldn't be safe to have another baby.

We hadn't planned on having another child, but I never expected to have that option taken away from me. It was yet one more thing I had put my family through.

We meet Anita, Gerardo and Lewis, their son, every few weeks, and I speak to her on the phone every week. We're friends for life and nothing can take away that bond.

The biggest positive of the experience, beside from making me appreciate my family more, was the springboard it gave me to get fit.

After the birth, I was a size 20, so I started exercising, which helped me lose six stone in just over seven months.

I don't want to put off anyone else being a surrogate and still think it's a wonderful thing to do, but you have to realise there can be complications. You need to put yourself and your family first - to risk that is madness.